“I don’t know,” he answered. “All I know is this: Killpack works for a judge, he spies on me, he’s dead. Somehow, you get framed for it. Why? I don’t know, but I do know that a judge is involved. So that’s where we’re going to start.”
In a twisted way it certainly made sense. But why would they frame me if Uncle Joey was bribing them? “Are you bribing all three of them?”
“Hell no,” Uncle Joey said, offended. “I haven’t bribed any of them. That’s not how I do business.”
He was telling the truth. “So how does it work then?” I asked. “Because I certainly don’t understand how it could be related to setting me up for murder otherwise.”
He could see my point and was grasping at straws. “The relationship I have with them is a simple matter of helping each other out now and then. I scratch their back, they scratch mine. But there must be something going on that I don’t know about, and the best way to find out what it is, is for you to spy on them. See? It makes sense now.”
“Um…yeah. I suppose so.” I shrugged. “I guess it’s better than nothing.”
“Exactly,” he agreed. He was thinking that it was the only thing he could come up with, and it bothered him that he couldn’t be more helpful, especially when this had to be his fault. He didn’t know exactly how it was his fault, but what other explanation was there? He would be the first to admit he had enemies, but going after me didn’t make sense. Hell, hardly any of them even knew about me, and he’d kept his distance for long enough that it didn’t make sense anyone would think I was still involved with him. Just thinking about it was starting to give him a headache. He was getting too old for this. Too bad he’d sworn off alcohol. He could sure use a drink right now. Maybe a beer would be okay though. Ramos probably had one in his apartment down the hall.
“Okay,” I said. “Who do you want me to listen to first?” I was willing to give his scheme a try, and who knew, maybe something would come of it. Besides, it touched me that he cared, and I hated to see him start drinking again because of me.
He pulled his attention back to me. “Um…I have a tee-time set up for seven in the morning with the judge and another friend. Do you golf? I was thinking you could join us. Make it a four-some.”
“I’ve played, but I’m not very good at it.” Golf was actually my worst enemy. I could never seem to hit the ball right, and it just ended up making me mad. Chris kept telling me that if I’d relax and quit being so angry, I’d do lots better. He said the game was just as much a mental thing as it was a physical thing. It was probably true, but even after lessons, I still couldn’t get the hang of it.
“How about I just drive the golf cart?” I asked. “Or better yet, meet you for breakfast after?” He was thinking about getting breakfast at the clubhouse, so that sounded like the better deal to me. “I’m sure it won’t take longer than a few minutes to listen anyway. When do you think you’ll be done? I’ve got to be ready to go someplace else at ten-thirty.”
“We only have time for nine holes, but I’m not sure the judge will stay for breakfast. He usually has to be in court by nine-thirty. That’s why we have to go so early.”
“Oh.” I sighed. “I guess I’d better play golf with you then. But how are we going to do this? I don’t really want the judge to know who I am.”
“Hmm…that might be a problem,” he agreed. “I could introduce you as my niece from Baltimore, staying with me for a few days. You could be Shelly Manetto. How does that sound?”
My face crinkled up in a look of horror, but I quickly changed it into a smile. “Um…sure.”
“Do you have any clubs? Jackie could lend you hers. She’s a little shorter than you, but they should work.”
“No, I’m good. I’ve got some clubs.” Chris had given them to me for Christmas one year. We’d only gone golfing a few times, and I’d really tried to like it for his sake. But I just couldn’t do it, and they’d been collecting dust for years. Since they were measured just for me, I might as well use them.
“That’s good then. We’re playing at my club, so you’ll need to dress properly. They won’t let you play otherwise.” He was hoping that if I had my own clubs, I’d also have the right clothes.
“Which club is that?”
“The Lakeview Country Club,” he said. “Do you know where it is?”
“Of course,” I answered. I’d never been there, but it was the swankiest club around. “I have the clothes and everything. You won’t be embarrassed about how I look, but I can’t say that about how I play.”
He smiled. “That’s all right. None of us are that good either. We like to go for the exercise and the conversation.” He was thinking about the favors and information they wrangled out of each other, which was even more fun than playing the game. “Anyway, try to be there at least fifteen minutes early. We have to be on the course right at seven a.m.”
“Okay,” I agreed. Checking the time, I panicked to find it later than I thought. “Oh…I’d better get going. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Looking forward to it,” he said. I jumped up and headed to the door. Before I could open it he added, “And Shelby…we’ll figure this out.”
“Thanks…for everything.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and slipped into the hallway.
Uncle Joey had tried to hide his anxiety, but I’d picked up on it just the same. He was worried about me and couldn’t stand the thoughts of me going to jail. Even more surprising was the fact that he trusted me completely. He didn’t think for a moment that I’d ever turn on him.
I’d also found out that he was doing much more than looking into the judges. Ramos and his men were checking all of their sources for a paid killer who was good at breaking and entering. They were also offering a reward for anyone with information about Killpack’s murder. Uncle Joey was determined to do everything in his power to help me, and I got a little choked up. It was also a bit confusing. How could a bad guy be not so bad? It certainly blurred the lines, catching me right in the middle.
As I said goodbye to Jackie, I blinked the moisture from my eyes and put up my shields, not needing to hear how sorry she felt for me or how bad she thought I looked. I’d cried enough for one day. I got home before my kids and headed straight to the cupboard for a swig of Mylanta. Once that went down, I took a few bites of my sandwich from lunch to stop the churning in my stomach.
Feeling better, I went back out to the car and popped open the trunk. I unloaded the boxes Billie had given me and took them to the den where I could study in peace. The first box contained the police report and took my mind off my troubles. Soon, I even felt well enough to open a can of Diet Coke.
My kids came home, followed by Chris a half an hour later. We decided not to tell Josh and Savannah what was going on until it became absolutely necessary. Besides, maybe in a few days we’d have it all figured out and I’d never have to worry about it again. I tried to act like nothing was wrong and even managed to get dinner ready and eat some of it.
At least this time we weren’t interrupted by a nosey reporter, although my nerves were still on edge. Every time the phone rang, I cringed, worried that Dimples was ready to arrest me. After everything that had happened today, I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Once dinner was over, I showed Chris the boxes on Jim Porter’s case. After I explained the similarities in Jim’s case and mine, he took a deep interest, and we spent the rest of the evening looking over the files. It helped to have his expertise in arranging them into categories that we could work with.
I paid special attention to the judge in the trial. Maybe he was part of this and Uncle Joey knew him. “Do you know Judge Dobson?” I asked Chris.
“I know who he is,” he answered. “But I’ve never been in a courtroom with him. I doubt he could be involved, though. From what I’ve heard, he’s a good man and a good judge.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t always mean someone’s not involved. It will be interesting to see if he’s t
he one I’m playing golf with in the morning.”
“Golf?” Chris choked. “You’re going golfing?”
“Yes,” I sighed. “Uncle Joey invited me to his golf match in the morning so I can listen to one of the judges he knows. He’s trying to figure out what’s going on and if this judge is involved, so I agreed. I know it sounds crazy, but what else am I supposed to do?”
Chris was thinking I must be desperate to agree to play golf. He knew I hated that game. “That’s one way to look at it, I guess. But if you ask me, it’s probably a waste of time.”
“Why?”
“Because Manetto’s not going to be honest with you. I’m sure he’s got his own agenda, and you can’t trust him. If you ask me, he’s the one you should be listening to. I’m sure he has a lot to hide. You might even find something that will take him down and get him out of our lives for good.” He was thinking that might be the best way out of this mess.
I didn’t want to tell him he was wrong, so I just kept my mouth shut and shrugged. After several hours of searching, I jotted down a few questions to ask Jim. Disappointment flooded over me, making it hard to be positive about his case. There was nothing in the files to indicate he was innocent. In fact, everything looked pretty good that he’d killed his girlfriend. There were even witnesses who’d seen them arguing just that morning. If he was innocent, it was going to be difficult to prove.
Needing a break, I decided to send Chris out to the garage to get my golf clubs so I could dust them off. I worried that after two years of sitting in the garage, they would be filthy. It was a pleasant surprise to find that I’d covered them with plastic and they weren’t as bad as I’d thought.
Once I had them cleaned, I rummaged in my closet to find my golf clothes. My pale pink polo shirt needed washing along with the black skort I’d bought. Although they were a few years old, I didn’t think the styles had changed much, I mean how different can a polo shirt get? Plus I really liked the golf skort. It was black knit, and had a cute little ruffle at the short hemline. After washing and drying them, I knew that even if I didn’t play well, at least I’d go out looking good.
Now all I needed was a good night’s sleep, but that proved nearly impossible. Knowing I needed to get up at six a.m. didn’t help much, but what really kept me awake, was my visit to Jim Porter the next day. Not because I was afraid of talking to him, even though I was a little worried about that. No, the thing that had my stomach in knots was the fear that I might end up in prison just like him.
Chapter 6
I groaned when my alarm went off, but managed to get up and get dressed. It helped to know my clothes were all laid out, and adding a little eye shadow and mascara didn’t take long either. It was a good thing since I needed to leave at six-thirty. I pulled my hair into a ponytail to wear with my black cap, but couldn’t find it anywhere. Then I found my hair hat. The one I’d bought in Orlando to help disguise me from Carson’s goons. Should I wear it? The visor part was pink, so it matched. And if I wore my dark glasses, the judge might not recognize me if he ever saw me again. That clinched it, and I carefully stuffed my hair into the cap and pulled it down.
I played with the short blond fur that passed for hair sticking out the top until I liked it and smiled. It might not fool anyone, but since I was Uncle Joey’s niece from Baltimore, that could explain a lot. I should have told him to say I was from Orlando; then wearing something like this would make perfect sense. Maybe I still could.
Chris came into the kitchen to wish me luck and stopped short in surprise. His lips twitched and he wondered what I was thinking. How could I go into a posh country club wearing a hat like that? Of course it showed a certain amount of guts to wear it in front of Uncle Joey, and he was impressed. He smiled broadly. It was just like me to do something crazy and unpredictable like that.
“I like it,” he said.
“Good,” I answered, pleasantly surprised. “Now help me get these clubs into the trunk.”
After giving Chris last minute instructions about getting the kids off to school, I left with minutes to spare. I drove up to the valet parking just after Ramos drove up with Uncle Joey. At first glance Uncle Joey didn’t know who I was, but I hadn’t fooled Ramos. He had a big grin on his face, and his shoulders shook with laughter. He was thinking about the airport in Orlando and how it had taken him a good minute of observing to realize it was me in that hat.
I never knew that, and I glanced at him in surprise. I was also surprised to find him dressed in a golf shirt and slacks. Was he going to play with us? The valet took my keys, and another attendant got my clubs out of the trunk while I hurried over to Uncle Joey and Ramos.
“Nice hat,” Uncle Joey said. “I think I’ve seen those before. Where did you get it?”
“Orlando,” I answered. “Remember when you told me to buy a hat to hide my face? This is it. I thought it would be fun to wear today, especially since it matched my shirt.”
“Oh, yeah. I guess it does,” he said, glancing at my shirt. He was thinking it probably didn’t have anything to do with my shirt and more to do with keeping my identity a secret.
“Maybe you could tell the judge that I’m from Florida?”
He smiled. “I guess that would work.”
“Good,” I said, relieved he was willing to go along with me.
“My other friend couldn’t make it, so I asked Ramos to join us. Let’s get inside. I’m sure the judge is already here.”
I followed him in, with Ramos at my side. “You play much?” he asked.
“Not for a while,” I answered. “So I’m probably a little rusty.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I don’t normally have the time, but every once in a while Manetto needs me to fill in.” He was thinking it was more often to intimidate whoever Manetto was playing with. Kind of like today. Manetto was hoping to put some added pressure on the judge, and Ramos’ presence always made the guy nervous. He was a reminder to the judge that he still owed Manetto for bailing his son out of a bad situation. Ramos glanced at me and cocked an eyebrow.
I nodded and whispered. “Good to know.”
The judge waited for us outside on a beautiful deck overlooking the course, a glass of orange juice in his hand. He turned to greet Uncle Joey with a smile that faltered just a bit at the sight of Ramos. He was thinking it was never a good sign when Ramos joined them, and he wondered what Manetto wanted now. He glanced at me, surmising that whatever was going on had something to do with me. He thought I looked like a punk with my short, spikey blond hair.
Uncle Joey shook hands with the judge, and then introduced me to him. “Parker, this is my niece from Orlando, Shelly Manetto. She’s here for a quick visit, so I asked her to join us.” He shook my hand, and up close, realized my spikey hair was fake, and figured it must be what people wore in Florida.
“Nice to meet you Mr. Parker,” I said, a little disappointed his name wasn’t Dobson.
“And you know Ramos,” Uncle Joey continued. Parker gave Ramos a tight nod. Just the sight of him made Parker uneasy, and he hoped he was good for whatever Manetto wanted. He owed him too much to let him down.
Parker turned his attention to me, trying to see a familial resemblance between us, but with my dark glasses and the silly hair hat, it was hard to tell what I looked like. At least my clothes were nice. His gaze lingered on my short skirt, and he decided maybe playing golf with me might not be too bad after all.
I turned my face away before he could see the blush that crept up my neck. On one hand I was flattered, but on the other, it just made me more self-conscious than ever.
An attendant drove up with our golf cart, and Parker finished off the last few swallows of his juice before we set out for the first tee. Ramos got behind the wheel, and I quickly sat next to him, not wanting to get stuck sitting by a judge who wanted look up my skirt.
We arrived at the first tee, and my stomach clenched with nervous tension. The pressure to hit the ball on my first swing was turning my insi
des to mush. “Why don’t you go first, Shel-ly?” Uncle Joey almost said the wrong name. This was a bad sign. I took out my club and moved away to take a few practice swings. At least I still remembered how to hold the club, and the first practice swing wasn’t too bad. Now if I could just hit the ball.
I heard Parker thinking I had a pretty good swing, but I lifted my head up too fast. I needed to keep my eyes down and then swing through. I also needed to shift my weight better. I took another practice swing where I imagined hitting the ball, and this time Parker was thinking that was pretty good. Of course, swinging at nothing and hitting the ball were two different things.
Letting out my breath, I stooped over to set the ball on the tee, and got into my stance, shifting back and forth on my feet until it felt right. I was just about to take my swing when I heard “what a wiggle,” “nice butt,” and “babe,” from each of them. Suddenly, I couldn’t move.
Now, they were all wondering what was wrong with me. I glanced back at them with an apologetic smile. “Wow, I just totally lost my concentration.”
Ramos burst out laughing. Then understanding dawned on Uncle Joey and he started chuckling too. Parker wondered what he’d missed. What was so funny? Just to be on the safe side, he joined in the laughter.
“Do you need some help?” Ramos asked. He was thinking how nice it would be to stand behind me with his arms around mine and guide me through a swing or two. My knees went weak just imagining it. He took a step toward me and my mouth gaped open. The playful gleam in his eyes turned dark and I swear my whole body flushed in reaction. The club fell from my lifeless fingers, jolting me back to my senses.
“No! Stay back!” I gasped.
“You sure?” Ramos asked. “At least let me pick up your club for you.” He was thinking I should let him do it, since leaning over would give Parker and Manetto another great view I probably didn’t want them to see. My eyes widened so big I was sure my eyebrows had disappeared into my hair-hat.
Ramos handed me my club, and placing a finger under my chin, pushed my mouth shut. “There you go.” Mirth lightened his eyes. “You sure you don’t want some help?” he asked innocently. But I knew better. Teasing me was the highlight of his day.
Trapped By Revenge: A Shelby Nichols Adventure Page 7